


Heart So Unobtainable

by ResidentHothead



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Self Harm, Cheating, Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Football Player Shane, Glenn's the best goddamn friend ever, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loner Daryl, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Rejection, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Shane realizes he's a goddamn idiot, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Will Dixon's A+ Parenting, You go Chinaman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:05:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ResidentHothead/pseuds/ResidentHothead
Summary: Daryl already thinks he's a piece of shit, but when he figures out he has a crush on the guy who bullies him mercilessly, he thinks he can't possibly get any lower than this. Could he?But Shane isn't gay. He can get any girl in school that he wants, and he's a football star. What would he want to do with trailer trash hicks like Daryl Dixon? However, an altercation in the locker room may change the way he views the younger boy. But will he accept these feelings? Or will he ignore them for the sake of his reputation and own peace of mind?(Putting this on a small hiatus, figuring out plot progression!)





	1. Freshman Blues

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing?

Daryl was running. Running and running and running as fast as he could, out of that fucking house, away from those fucking screams, away from that fucking belt, away from his own fucking head. He forgot his stupid fucking backpack in the midst of all hell that broke loose, all because he couldn't stop his clutz ass from letting the bathroom door slam too hard and woke up his stupid father. There was many things that you shouldn't do in the goddamned Dixon household, and on the top of that list was wake up Will Dixon. He hadn't meant to be such a fucking idiot, he was just tired. But that wasn't an excuse, and the bruises forming randomly all over his body and his aching ribs reminded him of that every horrible step to school.

Keeping in mind that he was already ten minutes late when he managed to escape that shit shack he called a house, he got his rear in gear and sped up, muscles crying for him to stop. But another note home that Pa had to sign was just another belting waiting to happen. So he preferred to try and get his pathetic ass there as soon as humanly possible. If not sooner. He hadn't even noticed he was wearing the same clothes he'd worn yesterday until he went to pull his hood up over his head to try and hide the bruising that he noticed the dirt on his arm from when Shithead Walsh had shoved him out of the way at lunch. Stupid Shane...

He slipped into the classroom when the teacher had his back turned, but of course, Mr. Blake always fucking noticed. And he liked to call him out on it too.  
"Good morning, Mr. Dixon. You're late."  
He relayed, and Daryl only gave a grunt in response, quickly making his way to the back of the classroom to slump next to Glenn Rhee, who was still staring holes into the back of Maggie Greene's head like he's been doing since the first day they got here at this dumb school. But Glenn managed to pull his eyes away from the farm girl to look at the pile of shit that had just taken a seat next to him.  
"You look like shit."  
Gee, what a unique observation Glenn. Asswipe.  
"So do you." Daryl mumbled back, and immediately Glenn was offended, placing a hand on his chest in an offended gesture.  
"What the fuck Daryl, I thought I looked--"  
"Cool it, 's only kiddin'." The redneck grumbled, sinking his head down into his arms as he listened to Mr. Blake go on and on about some bullshit that he didn't care enough to know about right now. All he wanted to do was rest his aching ribs.  
  
Glenn wanted to question his friend on his current state, but he thought better of it. He already knew the answer. Daryl had done something dumb to get his older brother worked up and they had another falling out. At least, that's what Daryl had always told Glenn. And knowing the older Dixon brother, there was no reason for Glenn to question it. So he didn't. And that was that.

* * *

 

Nothing significant happened in that class, or the few following after. Gym was what Daryl had been dreading. He never got changed in the locker rooms, no, he couldn't change in front of anyone. So he'd duck into a stall with his gym clothes and change in there as quickly as possible. And even then, his shirt never came off. The sleeves of his white undershirt stuck out on his arms where his t shirt ended, but he pulled on a red and white track jacket that matched the shorts, zipping it up. He never wore sneakers anymore though. Just hiking boots. He'd been scolded many times over, but the teacher soon gave up, seeing as Daryl could participate all the same. Before he left the stall, he checked himself over. His legs, barely hairless unlike all the other boys his age, were littered with bruises from this morning mixed in with the ones fading. He can't even remember a time where he had unmarked skin. No, it didn't seem like there was ever a time. He probably came out the womb with bruises. Not scars though, he has every painful memory burned into his brain how each and every scar had been made on his body.

Daryl headed out to the field where he'd just walk, because the teacher honest to god just didn't fucking feel like an activity or sport today. Just walk. Usually happened when the man was hungover, really. And Daryl felt better knowing that he couldn't possibly embarass himself today, or get yelled at for refusing to participate. But the feeling of relief was gone just like that when he spotted the juniors in his gym class. Shane Walsh, Rick Grimes, and their little crew of assholes alike. Rick didn't seem to be an asshole, so Daryl was left wondering why Rick would be around someone so stupidly cruel.

Ducking his head as he walked, Daryl sat in the grass by Maggie Greene. She smiled over at him immediately,  
"Mornin' Dixon." She chirpped happily, why she was glad to see him was always beyond Daryl.  
"Hey. Gonna talk'ta Glenn yet?" Daryl decided to bring up the topic for about the third time this week, earning himself a sigh from the farm girl at his left.  
"I want to, Daryl, I really do. It's just... What if Daddy don't like 'im?" She asked, eyes looking so lost that it made Daryl's stomach sink a little.  
"Ya said he's nice. Won't yer dad like whoever you like?" Daryl tried to reason. He heard nothing but good things about Hershel Greene. He used to be a vet, but now he was subbing for teachers at school. Apparently the man was qualified to teach. Daryl had never gotten the pleasure of being in any of the classes Hershel was subbing for, but he wished for Mr. Blake to get sick far too often to be considered healthy.  
  
"I s'pose so." A sigh left Maggie's plump, pink lips, corners turning to frame a smile. "You always know what to say."  
"Don't know nothin'." Daryl brushed the praise off with a grumble, he didn't know how to react to compliments and such, and he sure as hell didn't deserve it. Maggie was just too nice to see that Daryl Dixon was no good.  
Maggie's smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, turning to a rather long frown. This caused Daryl to tense slightly, not knowing what he'd done wrong. But he figured it out too quickly when he saw the cleats standing in front of him. He leaned back on his palms to scoot his body a more comfortable distance away, but this position would never be comfortable. Well, not with this smug asshole towering over him, knowing he was probably going to get hit.

"'chu enjoyin' your little girl talk, Dixon?" Shane taunted with an obnoxious snort of laughter, his posse of fuckboy football players all laughing behind him, mind Rick, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here with his bully of a best friend.  
"Jus' fuck off, Walsh." Daryl hissed through gritted teeth, refusing to look at the older boy above him. No thanks, he was good. But of course, Shane wasn't. He never was unless Daryl was suffering. And that was the thing most everyone Daryl came across had in common.  
"'m sorry, what was that? Couldn't hear ya down there." Shane prodded at one of the bruises on Daryl's leg none-too-gently, causing the smaller boy to wince and pull away. Shane laughed again. "C'mon, Dixon, lighten up!"  
"What part'a 'fuck off' don't y'all get?!" Daryl snapped, standing up to square up to Shane, a dark glare piercing into Shane's dark eyes.  
"Daryl--" Maggie tried to dissuade, but she was cut off when Shane shoved Daryl hard, sending him to the ground.  
"No good trailer trash hick." Shane spat out, Daryl nursing his throbbing ribs that had jolted back to life with pain upon impact with the hard ground.  
  
Now Maggie was standing, looking furious.  
"Y'all best get on outta here! Go on! Get!" She shooed. Shane and his crew all laughed, except Rick again, mocking Daryl for having a girl defending him.  
"Shane, c'mon man, that's enough." Rick's pleading seemed to be the one thing that got through to Shane, and they were soon parting ways with Maggie and Daryl, Rick giving an apologetic look over his shoulder before jogging to catch up to Shane.

"Daryl you can't keep antagonizing him like that, you always end up hurt!" Maggie fretted, attempting to help Daryl sit up. When he violently flinched away, Maggie's hands shot up in the air defensively. Once Daryl was upright, and then hunched over to cradle his ribs, he huffed at her.  
"Walsh is'a one tryin'a start shit. I ain't takin' shit from nobody." He defended himself, slowly raising himself to his feet, legs a little shaky at first as they struggled to support his weight. But Daryl told himself to quit being such a fucking pussy and suck it up. Not out loud though, he only spoke aloud to himself when he was by himself. Before Maggie could say anything else, Daryl found himself walking away, heading inside to go hide in the bathrooms until class was over. Stupid Shane.

* * *

 

Ms. Peletier's class was Daryl's favorite. The teacher, Carol, was so nice to him. He'd even babysat her daughter, Sophia, on occasion. It was odd that the woman trusted him so much with her own flesh and blood. Sophia was the most important thing to her, Daryl could tell. His eyes often wandered to the drawings the little girl had drawn for her mother that were taped to Carol's desk, on display for anyone who entered the classroom to see. He still had a drawing Sophia made special for him, it was tucked under his pillow, hidden from Merle or Pa. It was pussy shit, Daryl knew. But Daryl was also a bit of a pussy, so he allowed himself to keep it.

He strolled into Ms. Peletier's class after gym, and she gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. He hated that smile. It was like she could take one look at him and know that everything he said about his brother and the fights that caused these bruises were all lies. So quickly Daryl ducked away from her gaze and made his way to the front seat, right by the teacher's desk. Math was so difficult for him to grasp, so he sat close enough for the teacher to help him, which she did every single class. He'd never ask for assistance though, Carol would just see the distress in his face, pull a chair over, and walk him through each problem. Daryl wasn't as dumb as he made himself out to be, he just got too overwhelmed. but Carol would help him pace himself, show him what he needed to do, but never gave him any of the answers. Daryl would do the equasion on his own without any hints, he just needed that extra support to help keep him grounded.

The best thing about this woman, though, she didn't take any shit. If someone were to mouth off to her, she'd give it right back without missing a beat. And usually Shane would be on the brunt end, since he liked to be a wise ass. But she shut his ass down every time. Yes, Shane was in this class too. He wasn't all that great when it came to math neither, but still, he seemed to be doing better than Daryl. Daryl admired Carol, especially if the rumors about her ex turned out to be true. The courage to escape an abusive situation was something Daryl couldn't even dream of having. Cuz Pa was there even when he was sleeping, too. But props to Ms. Peletier for sticking up for herself and Sophia.

* * *

 

Nothing else of interest happened the rest of the day, and the walk home wasn't as shitty as the walk to school. Sneaking in near silently, only to let out a sigh of relief when he realized the house was empty, Daryl made his way to his bedroom, closed his and Merle's busted door, and flopped down on his bed to finally fucking relax. Fuck school.

 


	2. Calm Turns Stormy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dates, beatings, and stale chips!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow another update? It's only been 2 hours!

The ride to school the next day was actually pretty fun. Why? Merle gave him a ride on his motorcyle! Daryl fucking loved that triumph, and each ride, however rare it may be these days, were always cherished. Merle pulled right up to the school with a dumb grin on his face, shooing his brother off.  
"Git now, boy. Ain't got all day ta fuck 'round." And he meant it. Merle had Merle Things to do. Daryl hopped off the bike and watched as his brother sped away, going faster than the 20mph speed limit set for a school zone. Asshole. With a grin of his own, Daryl made his way into the building.

  
He was not late to class today. In fact, he was there before Glenn, who seemed pretty shocked to see Daryl already lounging in the back of the classroom. Plopping down next to his friend, Glenn set his bag aside to find out just what was up.  
"You look uncharicteristically happy," he observed, "what for?" Daryl just kept on grinning, staying silent just to leave Glenn in suspense. "What, Daryl??"  
"Yeah, what, Daryl?" Maggie asked as she took a seat next to Glenn, who shivered violently at hearing the girl's voice. In a good way, of course.  
'What did you do??' Glenn mouthed helplessly to Daryl, who wouldn't wipe that fucking smirk off his goddamn face.   
"So Glenn," Maggie began, leaning so close to the asian boy that he could _feel_ her breath on the back of his neck, "would you like to come to my place for dinner tonight? Beth and I are making pot pie." She offered, and all Glenn could do is turn to her, jaw slack, eyes wide, and nod stupidly. With a small peck to his cheek, Maggie sat down in her seat.  
  
And Glenn fell out of his. Daryl doubled over laughing, and Maggie giggled, watching how awestruck Glenn had become. Attention had been drawn to the three dorks in the back of the classroom, but Daryl couldn't seem to care less, genuinely enjoying this moment with the people who for some odd, unknown reason considered him as a friend. 

The fun ended once class began, because Mr. Blake and his dumb history lessons were a total bummer, not to mention hard as fuck considering all the dates and locations Daryl could never remember. He was definitely going to fail the next test, even with the notes he'd steal from Glenn the night before despite the other boy's protests and claims that Daryl wasn't the only one who needed to study.

* * *

  
   
Art class with Mr. Horvath was alright. The man always was trying to look over Daryl's shoulder though, to see his sketches. Most of them ended up in the garbage can, though. Honestly, if Daryl ever had his own exhibit in an art Gallery, the collection would be respectfully named **Belongs in the Trash** , by Someone Who _is_ Trash.  
"Mr. Dixon, are you almost complete with the assignment?" Dale had asked, walking up behind his student, making sure to make himself known before getting too close. He noticed how jumpy Daryl got and a little violent when startled.   
"Nope." Was Daryl's answer, crumpling up the sketch he'd been working on and tossed it in the trash bin from across the room. His aim was impressive, perfect. Daryl would be on a sports team if he wasn't so scrawny. Or a total fuck up with no future. Disappointment was clear as day in Mr. Horvath's eyes, but he said nothing more as he walked off to go chat up some other student.  
"Nosey fucker.." Dusting off a fresh page in his sketch book, Daryl began to make a head looking shape, absentmindedly doodling.   
"Oh, he isn't that bad." Michonne defended, sitting at his side. Michonne never really talked to him. She just kept staring at that dumb Andrea girl all through class. He didn't know what Michonne saw in Andrea, honestly. Andrea was a jerk. Both girls were in his English Language Arts class as well. That's where he had most of his disputes with Andrea, who'd scoff at the way he spoke. Just because he had a redneck accent didn't mean he was stupid. Being stupid is what made him stupid. And even though he whole-heartedly believed he was stupid, he wasn't going to let himself be called that by this dumb smug bimbo who had slept with Walsh to get on the cheerleading team, only not to make the final cut because Captain Bitch, Lori, didn't think she was skinny enough.  
  
"Can't mind his own damn business." Daryl hadn't even spared Michonne a glance, too wrapped up in his own mind to take his eyes off of his paper, though he really couldn't comprehend what he was sketching at the moment.  
"I mean, it's kind of, y'know, his _job_?" She teased, bumping Daryl's arm with her shoulder, causing him to violently flinch away from the contact, ripped out of his own head with a look of panic. Michonne narrowed her eyes, knowing something was up.  
"Startled me..." Was his excuse, looking down at his paper. What the fuck?! When had he drawn this?! And why?!  
"That Shane?" Michonne leaned over his shoulder.  
"NO!" He probably shouldn't have shouted that, but man he was completely panicked now. Quickly tearing the page out of his sketchpad, he shoved the paper into his bag - which he had remembered to bring today - and dropped his head down onto the table to hide his burning cheeks, and to hide from all the estranged looks he'd recieved for the sudden outburst.   
  
Michonne could only chuckle at the flustered Dixon, leaning back in her seat.   
"Looked like him."  
Daryl huffed out a string of curses before peaking up to look at her.   
"I will end you." He threatened, mustering up his most intimidating glare, to which Michonne only snorted a laugh, turning her attention back to her own work.  
"Whatever you say, Dixon."

* * *

 

  
Avoiding Michonne after class meant being the last to exit, since she had trailed right after Andrea without the other knowing it. So that meant he wouldn't be early to the locker room, and he'd have to wait until everyone else filed out of the room before Daryl could go in and have his privacy. The stalls provided an extra security, but those flimsy locks were unreliable. Same with the ones for the lockers, which is why most students carried their backpacks around with them most of the day, really only using their lockers for textbooks, and not any personal belongings. Nothing that anyone would bother stealing, anyway.

  
But today Daryl had wished he'd dropped his bag off at his locker today, because it was yanked from his grip and all of the contents were dumped out onto the floor. Daryl had backed away as much as he could, Shane's bulky figure towering over him once again.   
"Whoops, sorry Dixon! Didn't see ya there!" And right away Daryl knew that was bullshit, because he wasn't an idiot. Not as big of one as people expected him to be, anyway.  
"The fuck you want, Walsh?" Daryl demanded, angry that Shane wouldn't just fucking leave him alone.   
"Just wanted'a say hello~" And that right there was a fucking lie. He wondered why Shane wouldn't leave him alone, what had Daryl ever done to him? Maybe he just has something that attracts Assholes to come beat on him. Pa, Merle, Shane...  
"'s bullshit." Daryl grunted. But Shane wasn't listening anymore. He was kneeling down and looking at something that had fallen from Daryl's bag. Eyes drifting from Shane to whatever he was looking at, Daryl's heart stopped.  
  
"You some kinda fag, Dixon?" Shane spat, picking up the doodle of Shane to shove hard against Daryl's chest. Daryl let out a pained grunt, his glare gone, but eyes wide instead, mortified. He was so in shock he didn't even see the fist flying towards his face. Only did he know he'd been hit after he was knocked to the floor. And the assault didn't stop there, Shane stomped on his back, kicking him in the ribs. "You got some kind of faggot crush on me? Fucking piece of _shit_." He emphasized with one particularly hard kick. All Daryl could do was cower below Shane, curled up in a ball to try and protect himself. Letting out a disgusted scoff, Shane left Daryl to his misery on the dirty locker room floor.

  
Once Daryl shakily made his way to his feet, he disappeared into a stall where he sat back down on the floor, knees hugged to his chest and head buried between them, starting to cry. Dixons didn't cry. Only pussies cried. But Daryl was crying. Near silently, only a few breaths and whimpers escaping as he choked on his sobs, refusing to let them out. Daryl had always known he was attracted to guys, but to Shane? Hell, he barely had time to wrap his head around it before he was already beaten for it. He was so confused, confused to tears. The beating he could take, but the confusion was too much. Too overwhelming.

* * *

   
Daryl ditched the locker room just before lunch, opting to hide in the bathroom until 10 minutes after the lunch bell just to be safe. Once he worked up the smallest ounce of motivation, Daryl headed off to find Glenn and Maggie. It wasn't too hard to locate them, as they always sat under their favorite tree, in a secluded area of the courtyard. He plopped next to Glenn, face swollen and bruising, eyes red and puffy. Both teens' eyes had widened at the horrific sight of their friend, and both were at his sides in an instant.  
"Omigod, Daryl--"  
"--what happened?!" They asked in a panic, and Daryl contemplated on just staying silent, but one look at the both of them and Daryl was spilling everything that had just gone down. Glenn ended up with an arm around Daryl, letting his head rest on his shoulder while Maggie was fuming, pacing back and forth.  
"What is _wrong_ with him?!" She raged. "How could anyone be so cruel, so heartless?! Daryl, you’ve got to tell somebody! This _has_ to stop!"  
"No!" Daryl sat upright so fast he bumped Glenn’s head on the way up, but he didn’t care. Fuck Glenn. "Ain’t tellin’ nobody. ‘s ‘mbarrisin’ enough." He muttered, shrinking into himself.  
"Maybe Maggie’s right.." Glenn added, leaning forwards a bit to try and meet Daryl’s gaze. "He can’t keep beating you up and pushing you around like this."  
"Jus’ leave it." Daryl’s glare met Glenn’s concerned look.  
"But--"  
" _Leave it_." And they did. Not another word on the matter. 

* * *

The rest of the day was a bit more relaxed, though Daryl did skip math because he couldn’t stand the look of pity he knew Ms. Peletier was going to give him. And he hated to worry the poor woman. He was nothing to fuss over, and she’d see that soon enough. The walk home in the rain was depressing. Soaked but uncaring, Daryl flopped onto his bed.  
"Thought I heard ya come in ‘ere." Merle entered the room just after Daryl settled in bed, face down, legs dangling off the edge. "What crawled up your ass, huh, Darylina?" And that only earned Merle a grunt. That wasn’t good enough for him, never was. Walking around his own bed to Daryl’s, he grabbed his younger brother by the arm and pulled him up to see his face more bruised than it had been this morning. Merle let out a low whistle, looking over the damage while Daryl just glared at his brother.   
"Who fucked you up?"  
"Don’ matter." Daryl yanked himself out of his older brother’s grip, falling back onto his bed. "’s stupid." he was lying on his back now. eyes up on the ceiling.  
"Probably. What’d you do?"  
"Somethin’ stupid."  
"Figured as much."  
"Good on you, Merle." And Merle swatted his knee, walking back around to flop back onto his own bed.  
"Don’t be a wise ass now." Lighting up a cigarette, Merle leaned back on the pillows as he began to smoke while Daryl stripped out of his wet clothes, all but his boxer briefs and under shirt that thankfully wasn’t white today, and got started on his homework.

  
The evening was quiet for the most part, until Daryl took Merle’s cigarette. That’s when all hell broke loose. It began with wild fists flying and ended with Daryl pinned face down to the floor, a broken lamp, and a large cut on Daryl’s knee. Both brothers bruised and bleeding and gasping for breath, Merle finally let go once he realized Daryl was done swinging at him, because even if the fight was over, Daryl would keep coming. Merle knew when to quit, when to call it and say the dispute was stupid, but Daryl’s bravado refused to let him back down and it always ended with Daryl restrained on the floor.

  
Moving from the bedroom to the bathroom, Merle kneeled down in front of Daryl while he roughly preformed first aid on his brother’s knee, Daryl seated on the closed lid of the toilet, squirming under his brother’s every poke and prod, just wanting to be done with all the damn physical contact today. But Merle would swat his nose and mouth and scold him for squirming until he was finished, whacking Daryl on the back of the head as he cleaned up and exited the bathroom, Daryl trailing after, following in step with Merle.

Back in the bedroom, the brothers shared a can of beer and a stale bag of chips for dinner while watching YouTube videos on the cracked screen of Merle’s phone before bed. Merle was always out like a light, but Daryl had trouble sleeping. He guessed it to be around 3am when he finally started nodding off, and sleep washed over him easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a cry for help


	3. Trouble at the Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane confides in his best friend about what went down in the locker room, Rick and Shane visit their fathers at the police station and things take an interesting turn. Shane lets some information slip to the wrong person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and update a chapter or two every day. I'm having fun writing this all, and I really love that you guys are loving it too! 
> 
> Even though I find the self deprecation jokes hilarious.
> 
> **Edit:  
> Chapter 4 is in the works, hoping to get out a longer chapter fff.

Shane grabbed ahold of Rick's arm and ushered him away from their group, pulling his somewhat protesting best friend underneath the bleachers.  
"What, Shane?!" Rick yanked his arm away, turning to his friend with eyes full of concern.  
"Dixon's got a crush on me." Shane revealed breathlessly. Oh god, he didn't know how to feel about this. He always picked on the younger boy because he just stood out, and his family was trash anyway, he deserved to be put in his place. What the hell made the sick little fuck develop _feelings_ for him?  
"A crush? Shane, what are you going on about?" Rick asked, eyes wide in disbelief.  
"A drawing of me fell out of his backpack. It was one of those lovesick doodles shit, Rick. The kind Lori used'a do of you all'a time." Gripping his curly black locks, Shane began to pace underneath the bleachers as Rick watched his stressed out friend helplessly.

  
"Well, what did you do?" Asked Rick, slowly and calmly to avoid upsetting his friend any further.  
"I kicked his fuckin' ass, that's what."  
"Shane! What the hell?! Brother, what the hell made you think y'all could jus-- Ugh!" Rick raked his fingers through his own hair. "He was probably going through enough, I really don't think Dixon needed... To get beat up over something he can't help.."  
"It's disgusting, Rick! People, they shouldn't be like that." Shane stopped pacing to look Rick in the eye. Rick only sighed at him, shaking his head. They both stood in a tense silence for a long time before Shane finally broke it. "Want me to go suck his dick and say I'm sorry then? C'mon man, I ain't done nothing he didn't deserve."  
"Stay away from him." Rick snapped. "You've done enough. Just stay away from him and he'll stay away from you. It's like neither of you exist to each other." Shane opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Licking his lips, a small habit he's been known to show when distressed, Shane gave a nod.  
"Yeah, yeah I will." He agreed reluctantly, and from there on out, the conversation was over, everything was back to normal. He had lunch with Rick and Lori, who kept making eyes at Shane when Rick wasn't looking, and Shane tried his hardest not to reciprocate, but did a few times anyway. He couldn't help it. Damn cheerleaders..

Dixon wasn't in math class, which wasn't a surprise. Shane had a feeling Daryl would be avoiding him. Good. Shane didn't want to see his disgusting face anyway. Didn't need him dampening the mood for his after school plans. He and Rick were going to a movie and then they were going to visit the station where their fathers were working. Both respectable police officers, and best friends. Just like Rick and Shane. They wanted to be just like their fathers, best friends on the force, working as partners.

* * *

 

  
The movie was shitty. The special effects were so fake looking, the acting was off, and there was a huge lack of tiddies, as Shane put it. Rick only rolled his eyes at his friend, mentioning that once again, that wasn't what the movie was even about. But Shane complained they should get their money back because he didn't remember paying to see no sausage fest. But the trip to the police station was a rush, both boys trotting down the sidewalk in the pouring rain, backpacks held above their heads. Rick was faster and more agile than the bulky Shane, but he wasn't too far behind at all. They raced through the doors, panting and sweating and dripping with rain water. Once they caught their breath, they were sent on back by the receptionist and met up with their fathers to get an exclusive tour of the place.  
  
"And if you boys do well in school and the academy, hopefully you'll both get to sit here one day." Shane's dad motioned to the desks that said Officer Grimes and Officer Walsh, sitting side by side.  
"Can we see the guns?" Shane asked hopefully, recieving a small elbow from Rick, who snorted in amusement at his friend's boldness.  
"Absolutely not." Rick's dad scoffed a laugh, sitting down at his desk, sipping his horrible station coffee. He swore he'd buy the coffee next time, because the receptionist had bad taste in coffee.. Officer Walsh was just getting ready to head out when the radio screamed to life with a domestic disturbance call, spitting out an address that made Officer Grimes cringe.  
"Dixons.." He hissed out, springing to his feet. "You boys sit tight, we gotta take this." And before Rick or Shane could protest, they were out the door.

  
"Of course it is." Shane flopped down lazily in his father's office chair, kicking his feet up on the desk like he owned the place. "No good rednecks.."  
"I hope everything is ok.." Rick fretted, sitting in his own father's seat.  
"Oh relax, brother. Ain't nothing they can't handle." Scoffing, Shane downed his father's leftover coffee.  
"I meant with Daryl. His brother is pretty scary." Rick spared Shane a side glance, but the other boy didn't seem disturbed by the thought.  
"And Daryl is shitty too, so what?" But Rick only sighed, shaking his head.  
It was a good hour before their fathers returned, pushing a couple angry Dixons through the station. Merle Dixon was silent but angry, and Will Dixon was shitfaced, screaming his goddamn head off. Shane lifted himself up from his chair ever so slightly to watch both men be hauled off to holding cells. With a grin towards Rick, Shane got up and followed before his friend could really protest.  
  
"Shane-- ugh!" Rick was on his feet in an instant and quickly scurried after Shane. It was a good 20 minutes before they could sneak in, Will Dixon passed out drunk in his cell, and Merle Dixon leaning against the wall, just looking annoyed and a little bloody. When Shane peered into the cell, Merle gave a scoff, not looking up.  
"'chu school boys lookin' at? Lookin' fer some sorta entertainment? Ain't supplyin' none. Get lost."  
"Oh shut it, Dixon," Shane puffed out his chest to stand up to the male locked away before him and Rick. Rick howeverm said nothing. "Y'all ain't in any position to be orderin' nobody 'round." And now Merle is getting up, stalking across the cold cell and over to the bars, leaning on them, now amused.  
"Jus' cuz yer daddy's a pig don't save ya, boy. I know who both'a y'all are. Shane Walsh, Rick Grimes. Wouldn't be runnin' my mouths if I was y'alls." Rick froze up hearing his name from this dangerous man's lips. Oh god, he didn't know what to do, even Shane looked a little less confident now.  
"Ya don't scare me, Dixon. Not you, nor your faggot brother."  
Merle's eyes darkened at the insult towards his brother, arms shooting out through the bars to grab Shane's shirt and yank him close, slamming him against the bars. Shane cried out, and Rick immediately struggled to free Shane.  
"Let 'im go!" Rick yelped, trying to tug Shane from Merle's grasp, but it was a useless effort. A pissed off Merle Dixon was as strong as a fucking ox.  
"Wanna run that by me again, little pig?" He hissed out venomously, daring this stupid teenager to insult his little brother again.  
"Th-the picture!" Shane tried not to panic, but this man could snap his fucking neck at any moment and not even feel bad. "He was doodlin' fuckin' pictures of me at school today! Got 'isself a little faggot crush!"

Merle's eyes darted over to the cell across the way that held Will Dixon, who was thankfully out cold. Shoving Shane away, Merle stomped back to the bench at the edge of his cell.  
"Best keep yer fuckin' mouth shut, or it'll be a lot worse than that next time." And he meant it to. But now he was planning an interrogation in his head, because Daryl was now in some deep shit.

Meanwhile Shane and Rick hightailed it out of there, holy shit, Merle Dixon was fucking terrifying.  
"Fuck, man... What's that guy's problem??" Shane panted out, slumping against the wall just outside the office where their fathers were thought to be working on some paperwork for the Dixons.  
"Maybe insulting his little brother maybe _pissed him off, Shane_." Rick spat out, his heart racing in his chest from the scare the Dixon gave them. Shane let out an apologetic sigh, glancing over at Rick.  
"Slipped out, ok? He thought he was being tough shit and I wanted'a shut 'im down." He explains, running a hand through his curls.  
"He _is_ tough shit." Rick reminded, thinking back to all the stories his father told him about the older Dixon. Drugs, assault, gangs... The man was even in the army for a short amount of time. Apparently he was discharged for punching a _sergeant_. Like who _does_ that?? "Stay away from all the Dixons."  
"It'd be for the best.."  
The door swung open, causing both boys to jump. It was Shane's dad. "Security just told me the both of you were harassing the Dixons."  
"Uh, no?" Shane attempted to lie, but he knew he'd been caught. He sighed and stood up, shaking his head. "Sorry, pop."  
"These people are _dangerous_ , Shane!" His father scolded, though he seemed more worried than angry. "You stay away from them! Even that one that goes to your school, I don't like the looks of him.. It's only a matter of time until we see him in here. Now, lets get you boys home."

 


	4. No Fag Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the arrest, and getting ready for the party! 
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING**
> 
> Contains self harm in this chapter like a lil bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of support I'm receiving is astonishing guys! Thank you! I'm so motivated to keep writing! I'll try to keep up the chapter a day thing the best I can.

Both Merle and Pa were arrested last night. Whatever. Daryl didn't even care. Well, maybe he wasn't too happy about Merle. But the way Pa stormed in all drunk and started beating on him while he was trying to sleep, he was glad that Merle stepped in to protect him. Merle was stronger than Pa now, but the drunk bastard didn't know when to quit. Daryl spent the rest of the night in Merle's bed, since it was a familiar comfort. And in the morning, he found something that made him grin. Merle's cell phone. Daryl didn't have a phone, only Merle did. So scrambling to find Glenn's number, Daryl flopped onto his own bed, sending him a text.  
  
**Daryl: How was your date last night?**  
  
Simple enough. And there was nothing much to do but stare at the ceiling until Glenn responded.  
  
**Glenn: Amazing!!!  
Glenn: Wait who dis  
  
Daryl: It's D. Got Merle's phone.  
Daryl: Don't ever text this number without me texting you first.  
  
Glenn: Good 2 know  
Glenn: The date was great, Mr. Greene even seemed to like me  
Glenn: Guess a man with a job is good enough for his daughter ;)  
  
Daryl: ew  
Daryl: Think they'll have you out on deliveries soon?  
  
Glenn: most likely when I turn 16. Next year, I guess :D  
  
Daryl: your text faces make me cringe is2g  
Daryl: you guys doing anything 2nite?  
  
Glenn: some party at Rick's  
Glenn: Maggie asked me to go with her.  
Glenn: but 3s company  
  
Daryl: they don't like me idk glen  
  
Glenn: omg 2 ns  
Glenn: I'm adding Maggie  
  
Daryl: nooo  
  
**_Glenn has added  Maggie to the chat.  
  
_**Daryl: NOOO  
  
Maggie: hmm?  
  
Glenn: Glenn and Daryl :)  
  
Maggie: Oh, hey guys wassup  
  
Glenn: tell Daryl he's gotta come to the party 2nite  
  
Daryl: no  
  
Maggie: but it'll be fuuuuuuun  
  
Daryl: will not  
  
Glenn: cool we'll pick you up at 7  
  
Daryl: NO  
Daryl: I MEAN  
  
Maggie: r u ok  
  
Daryl: caps aah  
Daryl: lets meet up at Greg's  
  
Glenn: alright asshole who the fuck is greg  
  
Daryl: it u  
  
Glenn: omfg  
  
Maggie: xD  
  
**_Daryl has changed  Glenn's nickname to Greg.  
  
_**Greg: I'm gonna fukin kill u  
  
Maggie: jfc guys  
  
Greg: its him!  
  
Daryl: yeah ok greg  
  
Daryl: i gotta get off Merle's phone now b4 he comes home  
  
Maggie: where is he? :0  
  
Daryl: jail  
  
Greg: o  
  
Daryl: see you guys at 7  
  
Maggie: bye! ^_^  
  
Greg: \o  
  
**__Daryl has left the chat.

 _  
_ Daryl deleted the conversation and put Merle's phone back on the charger. Like he never touched it. Breakfast was some stale toast and some runny jam that he knew damn well had expired. But whatever, it was food. Kind of. After eating, he pulled on some jeans and his hiking boots, taking his crossbow and a few other necessities out into the woods. It was still raining, but lightly now. It was great, Daryl loved the rain. And that plus the setting of the woods surrounding him was Daryl's definition of heaven. If he were to die, he hoped to be sent somewhere like this in the afterlife. Well, when he were to die. No ifs about it. Everyone dies. Just a fact of life. Another fact of life was survival of the fittest. And Daryl was putting both facts into play right now, soon picking up the trail of a deer.

  
Stalking further into the woods, more silent than usual because the leaves were too wet to crunch under his feet, Daryl hunted the deer. He hoped he'd get it, they needed more than expired food in the house, and Merle wasn't in the mood to make some drug sales lately, so it was up to Daryl to keep the freezer stocked. He shot a few squirrels on his hunt, stringing them up. Those would be lunch. But he only grabbed what he needed from there. The deer was a big prize. His knee was still throbbing from his and Merle's scrap yesterday, mixed along with Shane's assault, and then Pa's beating the morning before... Ugh. Daryl would just have to shake it off, ignore it and press on. It wasn't too hard to do anymore, Daryl was used to pain. He even welcomed it on occasion, but Merle was home, so he couldn't bring himself to even attempt it. Merle got angry last time he caught Daryl doing it, his expression was near unreadable. Disappointment, maybe? All he knew is that he never wanted to see that damned look again.  
  
The deer was a quick fucker, but Daryl was quicker. He managed to get two bolts into the bitch before it took off running, Daryl right on it's tail. Well, until he slipped down into the creek. Damn wet leaves. And now Daryl was muddy and soaked. He huffed and climbed out, no worse for wear, just gross. but he expected as much to happen anyway, considering the weather conditions. He finally managed to catch up to the deer once it had keeled over and finally died, so Daryl dressed it and took it back home where he skinned it and prepared it for the freezer. Evidentally it was around the same time that Merle and Will got home. Daryl let out a shaky breath as he heard the bickering before they even got through the door. He was just glad that he had made himself useful while the two were gone.  
  
Merle stormed in and yanked Daryl away from the deer, taking over from there, muttering something horrible about their father. And Pa disappeared upstairs.  
"What happened?" Daryl asked, lingering in the doorway of the kitchen.  
"None'ya." Was all Merle could say.  
"Goin' out tonight. Glenn and Maggie invited me to a party with 'em."  
"Oh, really?" Merle actually looked up at Daryl. "Well, we'll hafta find ya somethin'a wear. Can't be lookin' like a damn fool. Go get yerself cleaned up now." He turned back to the deer, finishing up what Daryl had gotten done. Daryl nodded, making his way towards the bathroom after grabbing a pair of clean underwear and an under shirt.

Merle sighed, soon putting away the deer into the freezer and cleaned up the mess. He was trying to think of how to confront Daryl on these rumors that he didn't need going around. Not for himself or Daryl. Being the Town Fag wasn't something he wanted branded on his baby brother. The Dixons got enough flack, and even though most of it's justified, this just ain't ok. And hopefully he got his point through to that dumb Walsh kid. If not, an ass kicking was in order. He didn't care if that kid's father was a filthy pig, that didn't mean shit, didn't save him from these hands. No, he'd get what's coming to him if he didn't possess the self control to shut the fuck up.

Daryl slumped down against the bathroom door, taking deep breaths. Merle was going to help him get ready for a party? Oh god. He knew he was going to fuck up in front of his brother, be too skinny for some outfit, his hair wouldn't ever be fixed the right way, and Merle would just give up and tell his pathetic brother to stay home. Ugh... No, he'd be alright. But, he needed some help getting through this. Unsheathing his hunting knife from his belt and cleaned it off. Stripping bare from his hunting clothes - or saturday clothes - Daryl pressed the blade to his hip bone, deep enough to make a cut. He let out a hard breath at the stinging, sharp pain. But, it was welcomed. He needed it. Just once. Merle would never know. Cleaning the knife off, Daryl placed it back into it's holister and got into the shower, water lukewarm since hot water wasn't a luxury the Dixons had. The sting was great, the way the water beat down on the cut, drawing out more pain than it would've had just on it's own. Rolling his shoulders back, Daryl let himself relax and just stand there, water rinsing his torso. His muscles tightened and he let out a startled gasp when the water began hitting his back once he turned around, but he kept himself calm. It was just water, he told himself. It wouldn't hurt him. It wasn't hot enough to hurt him. It couldn't strike him. It just cleaned. He washed up the best he could, but it always seemed that Daryl would always somehow have dirt on him one way or another. At least his hair was soft though.

  
Exiting the shower, Daryl looked over his body with a sigh. Bruised, scarred, and lacking hair in the right places. He looked like a tall twelve year old, sometimes. Puberty was still taking it's time. Hopefully it wouldn't fuck him over like everything else in his life, but he wouldn't get his hopes up. The disappointment wasn't even worth it. So he pulled on his under shirt and wrapped a towel around his hips, approaching the mirror. And god, he hated what he saw. The beauty marks on his face, the way his eyes were more narrow than everyone else's, the crease underneath only one eye because of a surgery after a car accident. Merle was drunk driving that night and Daryl stupidly got in the car with him anyway. His hair was an awkward color, both trying to be blond and brown at the same time, and his blue eyes weren't an impressive blue. Just blue. Nothing special. God, he was ugly. His lips were too small, too thin, no one would ever desire to kiss him. He didn't have many strong features besides his eyes, but those weren't anything to look at. And he looked too feminine. Like his momma. He'd never look hard and manly like Pa, or even Merle, despite the curls he'd been cursed with. So very ugly, Daryl was. He shook his head and pulled on his boxer briefs, taking his dirty clothes and exiting the bathroom once he'd stopped his hip from bleeding. Going to his dresser, he pulled out a new pair of jeans and stole some of Merle's socks, dressing himself, and pulling on his backup boots since the other ones were completely and utterly soaked. These ones were a darker brown, and they looked cooler. They were newer, Merle had gotten them for him last year for his birthday, so Daryl didn't wear them as much. He'd completely wear out his usual pair first.

* * *

  
Saturday night rolled around quickly, and Daryl was standing in the bedroom in front of the mirror, wearing a band t shirt with the sleeves cut off, a pair of ripped jeans that fit him a little better than what he usually wore, and his good boots. Merle placed a pair of sunglasses on his face, grinning at his brother. "Look like ya'd fuck someone up, baby brother." Daryl just scoffed.  
"Yeah, 'm sure I do." He adjusted the shirt, making sure his knife was in it's holister, you know, just in case. Not that he was planning some fuckin' murder or anything, but this town didn't exactly like anything branded Dixon. "Headin' over'a Glenn's. We're goin' to the party together with Maggie."  
"Now hold up there, baby." Merle held out an arm to keep Daryl from leaving. "Need'a talk t'ya." And now he put on his serious face. Daryl furrowed his brows.  
"Y'all didn't get no bitch knocked up, didja?"  
Merle smacked him upside the head. "No, dipshit! I talk, you listen!" Daryl's nod was the indication to go on, though he was rubbing his head now. Ouch. "Better not hear anymore'a this fag shit 'bou'chu goin' 'round, y'all hear me?"  
"What are you--"  
"I know everything, lil' brother." Merle crossed his arms over his chest, finding the expression on Daryl's face amusing. But this wasn't the time to point and laugh. "Promise me."  
"Promise.." Daryl grumbled, pushing past Merle to get out of this damn house. Now his mood was back to being shitty, how had Merle found out?! Ugh, whatever. He just needed to put on a brave face for this party.

 


	5. Lets Get This Party Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn, Maggie, and Daryl all arrive at Rick's party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry

Rick Grimes lived in a part of the town that a Dixon was never supposed to go. Suburbs. Beautiful white houses with white picket fences, blue shutters over all of the windows, and a family sized porch, open and welcoming. Even with the lights and the people crowding both the inside and the front yard, it still screamed too elegant for Daryl to ever feel comfortable with. The three freshmen arrived, looking around with astonishment. A high school party. The first of many, if tonight goes well. Maggie wore a pair of tight jeans and a blue crop top with a fuzzy black vest she left unzipped and black converse. An odd combination, but Maggie made it work. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but the front was left down to frame her face. The girl looked ready to party. She may have been cold from the rain, but she didn't care too much, as long as she looked good. Glenn stuck to a black t shirt with an unbuttoned red flannel, a baseball cap, a normal pair of jeans, and sneakers. Casual. Glenn wouldn't hide who he was, and he didn't need to impress anyone but Maggie. And she was already here with him.

Daryl immediately felt out of place, sinking into himself, tugging on his Metallica tee. His sunglasses sat on the top of his head, because even though they looked badass, he couldn't see shit through them. Clinging to Maggie's arm, the trio made their way up the porch and into the house. God, everything in here was worth more than Daryl's whole fuckin' house. he gulped, looking around. Seemed like half the school was here. The music was blaring, colorful lights lit up the place, and there was no walking through without bumping or brushing against someone. But Maggie held his hand, leading him over to the refreshments table where she began to eat some chips, and Glenn went straight for the pizza.  
  
Good lord, the food looked amazing. Daryl hadn't ever seen half of what's on the table, and the other half he either got to try stale, or only saw it on tv or when other people were eating it. His chest hurt slightly, being smacked in the face with the reality of how much he's been missing out on. Carefully he picked up a chocolate mini cupcake from a clear plastic container it had been purchased in and began to examine it.  
"Waiting for it to tell you the secrets of life?" Glenn teased, noticing how intensely Daryl had been staring the treat down. He could just feel the blood rushing to his cheeks in embarrassment, shifting uncomfortably where he stood.  
"Jus' never had one b'fore." And the reaction he recieved wasn't one he wanted. Maggie and Glenn both stared at him in shock, like he'd just shit on their grandfathers. "What?"  
"How have you never tried one??" Maggie plucked the cake from his hands and unwrapped the paper, stuffing it into Daryl's mouth. Letting out a surprised choke, Daryl regained his posture and began chewing the sweet that had been manhandled into his face hole.   
  
It took a moment, but Daryl closed his eyes and threw his head back, groaning in bliss. Cupcakes were so fucking _good_. How had he never not known that?? Well, besides the obvious 'Daryl isn't allowed nice things' law set in motion by nature. He almost didn't want to swallow (gay) but he did anyway, which earned him a grin from both Glenn and Maggie.  
"What else haven't you tried?" Glenn dared ask.   
Daryl couldn't help but shrug. "Lots, I guess. We ain't made'a money. Can't afford much good stuff." Or even power half the time, but that detail wasn't to be shared.   
"Well," Maggie grabbed a plate and began to fill it with a small portion of everything, "you'll try everything!" Glenn laughed at the farm girl, so eager to have Daryl experience what the rest of the normal world has experienced.   
  
"Someone's hungry." A voice teased from behind them. The three spun around, Daryl's hand instictively reaching down to where his knife sat. He didn't touch it, just hovered to make him feel at ease. The voice belonged to the host himself, who wore a plain white tee and jeans. Seemed to be the theme of this fucking party. He had his thumbs stuffed into his front pockets, hands on his hips.  
"It's for Daryl, actually." Maggie grinned, "I want him to try this stuff! He hasn't tried a lot of stuff, apparently." Rick's gaze shifted to Daryl, who darted his own gaze to the floor, glaring at the beautiful decoritive rug underneath his feet. Giving a shrug, Rick poured himself some soda and parted ways with a 'see y'all later'.

* * *

 A good majority of the evening was spent glued to either Glenn or Maggie. And a number of times Daryl caught himself staring at Shane from across the room. The way he flirted, how he took shots and how his face scrunched up as he did them, obviously not used to the strength of vodka just yet, how he threw his head back as he laughed at whatever someone said that could be classified as funny. He hadn't even realized he had started walking until he was close, approaching the group and grabbed the glass bottle of alcohol and began pouring himself a drink in a plastic red cup. One of the jocks in the group immediately scoffed at him.   
"Ain't that a bit much, Freshman?" He taunted, the rest of the group turning to grin at Daryl. His breath caught in the back of his throat, anxiety building with all eyes on him. Shit, he hadn't wanted the attention, the man just wanted a fucking drink. But he wouldn't let these assholes scoff at him like he couldn't handle his fucking alcohol. Dixons had an impressive tolerance before they got drunk. So without any words, Daryl tipped his head back and emptied the contents of the cup, welcoming the burn as it made it's trip down his throat. Bringing a bare arm to wipe his lips once he removed the cup, Daryl just stared at the group, who appeared stunned.   
"Keep doin' yer pussy shots." Daryl poured himself another cup full before heading back to Maggie, who was chatting up Michonne, leaving Shane to glare daggers into Daryl's back and a mutter of 'fuckin dixons'.  
  
Michonne smirked when she spotted Daryl walking up, leaning on Maggie. "Enjoying the party?"  
"Pbbt." Daryl raised his brows, sipping his drink. Maggie snickered, and Michonne's grin only grew.  
"Fuckin' Andrea won't stop hitting on Walsh. It's disgusting. Can't she see I'm willing'a treat her right?"  
"Jus' go fuckin' ask her out already." Daryl rolled his eyes. Honestly, Andrea hadn't shown any signs of disliking Michonne, so there was no reason for her to be stalling this long, right?   
"Oh, like you've asked Shane?" She sent Daryl a glare that was supposed to be intimidating, but Daryl couldn't bring himself to give a damn because everyone has been beating on him this week. One more person wouldn't make a fucking difference.  
"Shane kicked m'fuckin' ass inna locker room. We already got our wedding date picked out. Cake's gonna be chocolate, since it's apparently fucking amazing. But with _pink frosting_." He winked at her, causing Maggie to giggle.  
"Their encounter was less than romantic. I don't think it's happening between them."  
"Ain't crushin' on 'im anyway. Jus' a picture. Don' mean nothin'. Unless I'm crushin' on all 'em squirrels I draw too."  
"Wouldn't put it past ya, redneck."  
Daryl snorted, spitting his drink all over himself. "Fuck, Maggie!"   
Both girls bursted into a fit of laughter while Daryl stomped off to go find some napkins to clean himself up with. Well, at least he can make Merle happy, reeking of fucking vodka.

  
Making his way back over to the refreshments table, Daryl tried his best to be careful of the crowd, but was bumped and knocked into Andrea, who spilled _her_ _drink_ all over herself and Shane.  
"Are you fucking kidding me?" She hissed, turning around to spot none other than Daryl Dixon. "Of fucking course it's you." Andrea shoved past him, heading to the bathroom to go clean up, Michonne trailing behind her to see what she could do to help. Daryl had been trying to stutter out an apology as she walked away when strong hands grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forwards. Suddenly he was face-to-face with an angry Shane, huffing and puffing, the man was so angry.   
"Fucking seriously, Dixon?! Do you know how close I was to gettin' that girl inta bed with me?! She was just about to agree!" Shane roared in his face, and Daryl felt himself trembling. Jesus fucking Christ, how did he always do this to himself. As Daryl tried to explain he was bumped and it was a total accident, Shane shoved Daryl into another guy, a jock, who shoved Daryl back. Suddenly there was a circle around him of angry jocks shoving him around, yelling obsenities at him, taunting him, and spewing threats of kicking his ass. Daryl caught his footing, but they all began to close in, he could feel the tears welling in his eyes, blurring his vision and trailing down his cheeks, his breath speeding up to the point of hypervenatating, his head beginning to spin. Oh god, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe! His body wouldn't stop shaking! He couldn't see! He began to feel lightheaded, quickly shoving his way out of the crowd and made his way towards the exit, he needed to get away! Oh god, what was happening?! He felt like he was fucking drowning, his vision fading in and out of blackness, he was stumbling, barely able to walk in a straight line, let alone remain on his feet. He dropped to his knees in the mud and grass in the front yard, heaving and struggling to take in air, any air into his lungs, but they wouldn't listen, oh god he was going to die! He didn't know what to do, his mouth was dry as he struggled to figure out a way to breathe again, the ground was tilting and he was so, _so fucking dizzy_.   
  
Daryl cried out in fear when a pair of arms wrapped around his torso tightly and he began swinging, fearing he was being attacked. A pair of hands grabbed onto his wrists, and the two figures restrained him, shushing him and holding onto him tightly. It felt like forever of fighting whatever was attacking him, his struggle to breathe was very much in effect until he froze, hearing a familiar voice.  
"Calm down, boy-o. Alright, I gotcha. Ten in, ten out, jus' like that. C'mon now, don't need ya passin' out." Merle. Where'd he come from? It didn't matter, Daryl listened, taking ten deep breaths, starting out shaky at first but gaining a stable rhythm. His vision began to clear as strong thumbs wiped away his tears, and soon he was met with Merle's soft grin. Not knowing or even caring where he was, Daryl laid his head on his brother's chest, listening to his brother's heart beat. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. It was a calming pattern, his muscles relaxing finally, the fog clearing from his head.   
  
"I called him as soon as you went down.." Glenn admitted sheepishly. "Still had his number from the texts." And Daryl gave a nod, sitting up.   
"'m sorry I made ya come down here, Mer." He appoligized quietly, resuming his position of curling into himself, hoping to maybe just disappear to never return. But Merle shook his head.   
"Ain't done nothing wrong, little brother." And Merle helped Daryl to his feet. Maggie and Glenn were giving gim soft smiles, but Daryl's eyes widened, seeing Glenn's swollen cheek.  
"I didn't-"  
"Don't worry about it," Glenn held his hands up, "I knew the risk of grabbing ya, and I did it anyway."  
"Glenn, I'm sorry." Great, not only did he have some sort of freakish breakdown at the party, but he also punched one of his only friends. Christ.. Rick came running out, an annoyed Shane trailing behind him.  
"Daryl, I heard about what happened, are you ok?" He had lipstick smeared on his face and neck, clearly having been in the middle of something when news got to him. Daryl only sunk into his shoulders, eyes on Shane. Shane glared back at Daryl, obviously still angry with him. But the dirty look hadn't lasted long, because Shane was suddenly unconscious in the grass, and Merle was rubbing his fist. Oh my god.  
" _Merle_!" Daryl's eyes were wide, and Maggie, Glenn, and Rick all backed away, terrified. Without a word, Merle pulled Daryl to his truck. The evening was over.

 


	6. Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl has a bad day at school, Shane goes too far, Rick isn't fucking doing this shit anymore no sir
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING**
> 
> Self harm in this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayy I changed my UN because my other one was cringey. Residenthothead is what I use to associate on other social media platforms (like my roleplay twitter account hueuehue)

"What's wrong with me?" Daryl asked his reflection. A little over a week had passed since the party and total fucking disaster of that Saturday night. And despite how much of a dick Shane was, Daryl felt himself always staring or thinking about the nasty jock, watching him, somehow bringing him up in conversations with Maggie and Glenn. He had multiple drawings from his sketch book he'd bring home and instantly burn in the back yard fire pit, because he refused to have a repeat of the locker room incident.   
It was Monday morning, and Daryl had just finished throwing on one of Merle's hoodies and a pair of jeans that he absolutely needed a belt for, since his hips were too skinny. Tightening his belt was a pain in the ass, since the rough fabric rubbing over the fresh cuts he'd left on his hips stung like a bitch. But he'd been cutting more and more lately. Having a crush on your bully really fucking makes you hate yourself. You know, more than you already do.  
  
Merle hasn't been around lately. No, he's been awol for a good week now. Not since last Monday had Daryl seen him. It was jarring, how the man could just up and leave for long periods at a time, and then show up again as if he'd never left. These are the thoughts that occupied Daryl's mind on the way to school. His ribs ached again, Pa had been very aggressive lately. Daryl wasn't sure what he'd done, but he knew it was something. Existing is doing something wrong, in Pa's eyes. Why Ma never got an abortion was beyond Daryl.

* * *

  
Daryl entered class and was immediately given a sharp glare from Mr. Blake that made his whole body stiffen.   
"Mr. Dixon, I'm afraid I never got your essay." He looked through all the essays that had been handed in on Friday, and Daryl raised a brow. He handed that sonovabitch in, it even had a bit of blood on it from his nose after he pissed off Pa by leaving the screen door ajar.  
"Check again, I handed it up with th' rest'a th' class." Daryl furrowed his brows now. Fucker must've just missed it. He had to. He watched the teacher go through the papers three times over, shaking his head.  
"I don't believe you did, Mr. Dixon. And it's worth one third of your semester grade.."   
"No way, that's bullshit!" Daryl snapped, stomping his foot. Usually he'd be cowering into himself at the thought of every single pair of eyes on him, but this was just fuckery. He turned in that damn paper.  
"Detention. Take a seat." Mr. Blake turned his back to Daryl, writing down today's assignment on the white board. Daryl's hands twitched, reaching for the scissors on Mr. Blake's desk, but they stopped short and balled into fists, stomping to the back of the classroom. Well great, he was going to fail history. This wasn't happening.  
  
Slumping down in his seat next to Glenn, Daryl sat hunched over and began digging the nail of his thumb into the side of his other thumb, hard enough for the blunt edge to draw blood. It wasn't cutting, but it was good enough for what he needed right now. The pain would distract him, ground him. Smearing the blood away from one wound, he worked on another below his thumb on the side of his hand, breathing quick and heavily. He didn't even realize that Glenn might've been watching until he felt the other lean over and whisper to him.  
"Hey Daryl, what the fuck? You can't be doing that shit, cut it out." He hissed out, quiet voice sounding frantic, worried eyes boring into Daryl's hands that only continued to injure himself.  
"Jus' fuck off an' mind yer own business, Rhee." Daryl snapped out, voice equally as quiet but his tone nothing short of hostile.  
"Daryl--"  
Jesus Christ, he couldn't do this right now. Daryl's head shot up, eyes glaring at Glenn, lips pressed together tightly. It worked, Glenn jerked away and sunk into his shoulders, eyes back on his paper. Daryl relaxed slightly, seeing Glenn back off. He felt bad, he knew Glenn was just trying to help, but he just couldn't do it right now. He continued his assault on his hand for a few more minutes before yanking the sleeve of Merle's hoodie down and began his own assignment.

* * *

  
Daryl didn't think his squirrel looked too bad. It's head was a little fat, but that was ok. It blended well into his nature picture he was painting. It sat it's fat little body on the tree branch above the stream, identical to the one a ways behind his house. He had a feeling all the rocks he painted were in the exact places, Daryl's memory for the woods in his area were burned into his memory. He was there so often, especially this week, just to get away. But right now he was stuck in Art Class.  
"Hadda pet squirrel once." He decided to inform Michonne after a few moments of working side by side in a mutually comforting silence.  
"A pet? Why was it a pet?" She snorted a laugh, glancing over at Daryl's work. He had a talent for this class, she just wished he could see it, and not throw every goddamn thing he made in the trash.  
"Had one leg. Couldn't do much. Stupid fucker, really." Daryl gave a one shouldered shrug, biting on his thumb as he used his free hand to carefully paint in some clouds. Fluffy, grey clouds over the dark blue sky. Bluish grey, like it would be turning to rain soon in his beautiful nature painting. "Named 'im Piss'ead."   
And now Michonne was genuinely laughing, smiling at Daryl. "You named your pet squirrel something like Pisshead?"  
"Course. He liked peanutbutter an--" Daryl was suddenly knocked forwards, the water to clean his paintbrush spilling all over his painting. "Ah!"   
  
"Oops! Sorry!" Ugh. Lori. He hated this bitch. As Michonne scrambled for some paper towels, Daryl just glared at his soggy mess of colors running down the paper. The painting was ruined.   
"'s ok." Daryl mumbled quietly, because well, she had apologized. "Dumb bitch..." Oh. I guess he is angry. He didn't even wait for Michonne to return with the paper towels, just wadding up his gross mess of paint and water and paper, throwing it away. Well, this is another class he'll be failing. He aided Michonne in cleaning the table up, but otherwise just sat there, staring off.

* * *

  
English class wasn't something Daryl was great at either. Today he just kept doodling Shane. It was fine. Mr. Mamet never bothered him. He had Merle years ago, so he knows not to press a Dixon too much. He was good friends with Mr. Blake, but he was smart enough not to be a dick about it. Everything seemed to be going well, and Daryl was dumb to expect this would be a chill class. Because Mr. Mamet asked him to read. _Shit_. He hadn't been following along, so he scrambled to find the correct page, leaning over to T-Dog's desk to see the page number. T-Dog had been nice enough to point out where he was supposed to be reading, and Daryl gave a nod in thanks, beginning to read. God, he was so slow, he kept stuttering and stumbling over his words, and the teacher kept needing to tell him what the bigger words were. Other students either groaned in annoyance or snickered at his expense. The teacher had him stop after only one paragraph, though usually each student reads a minimum of three. 

That was fucking humiliating. Eyes still lingered on him, laughter could still be heard. Holy shit, Daryl wanted to die. He resumed his assault on his thumb, opening and creating more wounds. But hey, it was helping him get through today. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad. He made sure to hide his unhealthy habit better than he had this morning, making sure T-Dog and Andrea were none the wiser about what had been happening, since he sat in the middle of the two. Hiding his doodle of Shane away, accidentally getting a thumb print of blood on the paper in the process, Daryl just put his head down and waited for the bell to ring.

* * *

  
Daryl was the last to change for gym class, and he didn't mind it. He just sat out in the field with Maggie, watching the football players talk. Maggie was going on about another date with Glenn, but Daryl wasn't listening. He was too caught up in everything that was Shane. The way he moved, how he sounded when he laughed, his eyes all squinty but bright when he smiled. Oh fuck, Daryl was in deep. Shane was great, despite his douche bag tendensies. Honestly, Daryl could listen to him talk for hours, get lost in that voice of his. It was rough, but also romantic, like kissing in a thunder storm (a cliche Daryl can't help but obessess over, by the way).

When Shane's eyes met his own, Daryl could feel his soul leaving his body. He should've looked away, but he didn't. And that only proceeded to make the other angry. He stormed over to Daryl, despite the protests from Rick, and yanked Daryl up by his track jacket, holding him to eye level.  
"Can you keep your dumb fucking fag crush to yourself and quit starin' at me?!" He shouted in Daryl's face, huffing and puffing with fury.  
Daryl cringed, trying to squirm away.   
"Wasn't starin' at nothin'." He muttered, his attempts at escaping were utterly useless, even with Maggie now standing and yelling at Shane to release her friend.  
"Bullshit, Dixon! It's been all week now and it's getting fucking irritating! I don't like you and I never will! In fact, _no one_ will!"  
"Shane!" Rick scolded.  
"Just do the world a favor and fucking kill yourself already!" Shane's grip on Daryl dropped completely when Rick grabbed Shane by his hair and yanked him away, absolutely fuming.   
"I don't give a flying fuck if we're friends, that is _never_ ok to say!" And he didn't even have time to continue scolding him, because Maggie had slapped Shane across the face before darting after Daryl, who took off in a sprint for the locker room.  
  
He was nowhere to be found when Maggie got there, she called for him, even went inside looking for him. His stuff was gone. Maggie scowered the school for Daryl, even making up some bullshit excuse to get Glenn out of science class to help her look. But he'd left the building.

* * *

  
"Rick, what the fuck?!" Shane had ice on his swollen cheek now from where Maggie had slapped him, leaning back on the bleachers.   
"Don't you 'what the fuck' me, Shane. I _told_ you to stay away from him! I don't really like Dixon either, but that was so fucking uncalled for! You don't say that shit to people, what is _wrong_ with you?" Rick was pacing back and forth in front of Shane, clearly worked up over the altercation that took place between the two.   
"You're supposed to be on _my_ side," Shane reminded, "Brothers, remember?"  
"How do you expect me to stand by you when you're pulling that shit, Shane? Your dad is a cop, that should be extra motive not to say something like that!"  
"It's not like he's gonna do it!" Shane tried to defend.  
"That isn't the point!"  
Seeing the look in Rick's eyes made Shane sigh. He knew he was in the wrong now, the raw anger clear in his best friend's face said it all.   
"I'll apologize tomorrow, alright? That was too far.."  
  
Rick sat down next to Shane with a sigh of his own.   
"I'm with you, but yeah. Apologize. Because no one deserves to be told that. Ever."  
"It slipped."  
"It should never have even been on your mind to begin with."  
"Sorry _mom_."  
"Don't make jokes, I'm mad at you." Rick nudged Shane with his elbow.

* * *

  
When Shane didn't see Daryl in math class, he felt a pain in his chest. He didn't know what it meant. But he knew it meant something when he caught himself staring at Daryl's empty seat for the umteenth time during the class period. All throughout football practice, all Shane could think of how pale the younger had gotten when he'd uttered out 'kill yourself'. He felt bad, he hated that he felt bad. Shane never usually regretted his actions, but he knew he'd taken it too far. The walk home with Rick was seemingly silent, but Shane's mind was loud, filled with the youngest Dixon.   
"He's got real small lips, huh?" Shane asked out of the blue, his mind so far gone that he began speaking his thoughts. This caught Rick off gaurd, turning to look at Shane, pace slowing ever so slightly. "Who has small lips?"  
"Dar--" Shane stopped. "Ah, shit.."  
"What? Shane, what's up?"  
"Fucker's been on my mind all day... What is he doing to me? Fucking Dixons.."  
"But.. you're not gay?" Rick sounded just as confused as Shane was.   
Shane ran his fingers through his curls, exhaling lowly.  
"I know. So why am I...? It's gotta be the guilt, right?"  
"If you think so. Just try to relax. You can apologize first thing." That seemed to make Shane relax a little, smiling at his friend.   
"I don't deserve you."  
"Nope," Rick grinned, "but you're stuck with me. This is you." He gestured once they reached Shane's house. Shane gave his friend a side hug before running on inside to shower, still sweaty and smelly from football practice. His mum wasn't home yet, so he took the liberty of raiding the kitchen of snacks and plopped on the couch to watch tv until dinner. Homework could wait.

* * *

  
He must've dozed off, because Shane wasn't awoken by his mum for dinner, but instead his phone buzzing like crazy. He reached over to the coffee table lazily and grabbed his phone. 16 texts from Rick, all urgent 'call me' and 'where are you's.  
  
**Shane: wtf is going on rick  
  
Rick: there u r asshole   
Rick: call me  
  
Shane: cant we just txt?  
  
Rick: no!  
  
** Shane huffed, hitting call. Sitting up, Shane leaned over his knees, rubbing his eyes with the ball of his palm. He didn't even wait for Rick to talk, speaking once he heard the answer from the other end. "I was sleeping, what??"  
"Daryl tried to kill himself."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry


	7. Who Cares if One More Light Goes Out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just one big trigger warning.
> 
> Short, but heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah

Tears clouded his vision, but Daryl didn't care. Shane wanted him to die. He didn't know why it hurt so much, why it absolutely fucking _destroyed_ him to hear those words when he already knew Shane hated him. He grabbed his bag from the locker room and sprinted down the hallway, out the front doors. He couldn't stay here, he was going to have a fucking breakdown. And if there weren't any witnesses around this time, that'd be great.

  
The trip home was quick, it barely registered in his mind that he was home until he crossed through the threshold. Dropping his bag by the door, Daryl quickly made it to his room and allowed himself to fall apart into a mess of wheezing and sobbing, shaking and falling onto his mattress, unable to hold himself up. He cried into his pillow, replaying those words over and over again in his mind. _Just kill yourself_. Daryl's chest ached, how could he experience a heart break over someone who was never even his? It didn't matter, he would get over it soon enough... He would force himself to. Being gay wasn't exactly an option for him anyway.

* * *

  
Daryl managed to give himself a headache from all the crying, he'd exhausted himself, both physically and mentally. And emotionally, I guess. Getting up from his bed, Daryl headed into the bathroom to find some sort of medicine or tylenol to take for his head before he'd sleep for the rest of the day. Looking through the medicine cabinet above the sink, which was also the mirror, Daryl found the bottle of tylenol and opened it up, taking one with a plastic cup of water he rinsed out and filled up.

  
But then he took another. And another. And then a fucking handful. Fuck it. Shane wanted him dead, so why not? It's not like he did anything to actually contribute to anyone's life. He always ruined Maggie and Glenn's fun by third wheeling so hard and being such a downer, Carol could find a new babysitter for Sophia, and he could stop being such a bother to Merle. Yeah. He downed the rest of the bottle, closing the mirror to look at himself. He stared back at his reflection with disgust. He was still as ugly as ever, only his eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks were filthy with dirt and tears. Because when was he ever not dirty? He would go through with it. Stripping down to his black tank top and dark gray boxer briefs, Daryl sat himself in the dirty tub with his hunting knife and let the blade run over his inner thighs, hissing out at the sting. But he wouldn't stop. He let the blood spill down his legs and pool underneath him in the tub. Three cuts on one leg, three on the other. That should do it, speed up the process. He would cry if he hadn't just tired himself doing just that ten minutes ago. 

He filled up the tub with cold water, not wanting the blood to stain. And he didn't deserve the rest of the lukewarm water. Merle could have it. He didn't mind the freezing water, because after about 20 minutes, he felt numb. Pa came downstairs to watch tv within that time, he heard him, but Pa didn't seem aware of Daryl's presence. Good. His vision began fading to black, and he wasn't sure if it was the doing of the tylenol or the blood loss, but Daryl welcomed the darkness washing over him.  
  
" _Motherfucker._ " Well, he did until this asshole came to ruin it. Daryl's jaw was gripped and jerked upwards, causing him to stir and open his eyes to see a very.. something Merle. Panicked? Angry? Both? "Are you fucking _stupid_?!" He roared, yanking his brother up out of the cold, bloody water in a hurry. Daryl screamed and kicked, splashing the water around, but he was hauled out of the tub and placed on the floor while Merle went for a towel, but his eyes caught something in his sight and decided to forget about the damn towel for now. He snatched up the empty bottle of tylenol and shoved it in Daryl's face. "How many'd you'd take?!"  
  
"Mer jus' lemme die! Fuck off and leave me be!" Daryl shoved Merle's hand away. But it wasn't that easy. No, Merle wouldn't budge. Grabbing Daryl by the back of his kneck, Merle forced him onto his knees, hunched over. Before Daryl could protest again, once his mouth was open, two fingers were shoved to the back of his throat, causing him to involuntarily empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor. All that came out was water, bile, and the pills. Got on Merle's hand, too. But he didn't stop, he made Daryl throw up at least four or five times until no more pills came up. Daryl struggled to free himself from Merle's grip, eyes watering, trying to scream at him to just go away. But Merle wouldn't go away.  
  
"The fuck is goin' on in here?!" Pa had charged through the door, eyes widening at the scene that unfolded before him. " _Jesus Fucking Christ.._."  
"Go call th' fuckin' police, hurry up!" Merle ordered, and with a look of disgust in Daryl's direction, Pa turned and left, presumibly to call the fuckin' police. But Daryl was more focused on fighting Merle, who was now tying torn strips of towel around Daryl's thighs to slow the bleeding. It wasn't hard for Merle to hold Daryl in place while he worked, the younger of the two already weakened. Daryl just sobbed and screamed, trying to pathetically scramble away from his brother, shrieking about just wanting to die. But it was useless, Merle wouldn't let him die. Soon he was in his brother's arms, being soothed in a way Merle would never soothe him, rocking him back and forth to try and keep him calm. The last thing he heard besides Merle's cooing was the faint sound of sirens in the distance before everything went black.

* * *

 

Fucking hell, someone was trying to blind him. His eyes fluttered open to some bright ass LED shit. His vision was fuzzy when he slowly sat up, peering around the room. When his eyes adjusted, he'd see that he was in a hospital room, Merle's eyes on him as he sat next to the bed Daryl occupied. Everything came flooding back to him when he met his brother's blank stare, his own eyes starting to water. "Sonovabitch..."  
  
"They's got shitty television, 'ere." Merle complained, eyes turning back to the screen in front of them. How could he be so nonchalant about this? Daryl guessed he didn't want to press the issue, seeing how uncomfortable it is. Especially when neither of them spoke about emotions. They just dealt with it with actions instead. Though, Daryl went overboard.  
"W'time's it?" He wiped his eyes with his wrist, leaning back slowly. His head was spinning slightly, and this IV in his hand was fucking itchy.  
"Reckon it's nearing 10 now."  
"At night??"  
"Mm. Gonna make a pizza run in a few minutes. Cheese and mushroom?" This was definitely serious if Merle was willing to spend his drug money on takeout. Still, Daryl nodded, giving a rapsy "yeah" in response. His throat was killing him from screaming so much, and the involuntary puking didn't do him any favors. Not for his throat, anyway.

"Wakey wakey, Darylina~ Pizza's here~" Merle cooed, shaking him gently. When had he fallen asleep? Sitting up, Daryl took the paper plate Merle handed him, setting it on the tray that sat over his bed, beginning to eat slowly. He sipped desperately at the water that was already there, just watching the tv in a comfortable silence. Well, until jackass broke it.  
"Mind tellin' me what today's episode was about?"  
"A little." Daryl muttered. He couldn't explain this shit to his brother, he couldn't even explain it to himself.  
"That Walsh kid?" _Motherfucker_.  
"..Yeah. Tol' me I should jus' go kill m'self."  
Merle's face stayed the same, but Daryl could see how tightly he was gripping the arms of the chair he sat in.  
"Don't do anything, I can handle it."  
"Like hell you can!" Daryl cringed, nearly dropping his pizza. Merle sighed, running his hand through his brown curls. "Don't need ya doin' this shit again."  
"Won't.. Y'all'll stop me anyway. Jus'.. Let it go. Jus' fer now. I jus' wanna relax.."  
  
Merle thought it over for a minute before giving a nod. "Get some rest. Doctor said yer gonna be 'ere for a few days."  
"Fuck." Daryl laid back down after finishing his slice of pizza, falling back asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am horrible I know.
> 
> Shane should be in the next chapter.


	8. Sandwiches and Cell Phones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl decides that escaping the hospital would be fun, and Shane finally apologizes for being a dicc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter I know, I'm working out the bigger plot. <3 Sorry you waited this long for this garbage whoop doop

Fatigue was an honest bitch, really, it was. And scaling down the side of the fucking hospital was an even bigger bitch. But in his defense, Merle shouldn't've brought his pants. Otherwise Daryl wouldn't be sneaking out. But he was getting stir crazy, and it was only 7 in the morning. Didn't matter, Daryl didn't like feeling trapped, and the stale air of the hospital only made it worse. Fresh air, that's what he needed. So after leaping to a tree, catching the branch and scraping up his hands in the process, Daryl dropped down into the grass with a grin. He was free. Taking off in a sprint, Daryl made his way through the woods directly behind the building, and he'd be long gone before anyone noticed. He was supposed to be on some sort of 'suicide watch', yeah, ok. He tried once and it didn't work. And Merle freaked. He wasn't about to try again only for Merle to kick his ass. _Death ain't about to snatch Daryl from catching these hands._

  
Approaching a small brook, Daryl knelt down slowly, careful of the stitching currently holding his thighs together, and splashed some of the fresh water onto his face. Oh, the smell of nature. He was home. He was smiling, it was great to be back in something that could never bring him the amount of stress the real world had. He didn't have his hunting knife, no, Merle wasn't an idiot. He wouldn't bring Daryl any sharp object after what he'd done. Not for a while. Brushing off the guilt, Daryl got to his feet and continued his journey through the familiar territory, stopping every once in a while to let his weakened body have a moment. It sucked, he regretted the cutting he'd done. Losing that much blood was really taking a toll on him, and the few slices of pizza didn't exactly bring his energy back to full. So about noon is when he headed into town. He didn't have much money, but the few dollars he snuck out of Merle's wallet before he left could probably buy him a bag of chips or something.

  
Shane thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he saw Daryl enter the sandwich shop. There were rumors that he'd tried and... the hospital wouldn't've let him out so early, would they? He felt his heart sink when the younger boy's gaze met his own, and before he could say anything, Daryl had fled the scene. Quick on his feet, Shane was after him and had his wrist in a hold a few feet outside of the shop.  
"Jus' leemme 'lone, Shane..." Daryl muttered, eyes on the sidewalk, hair blocking his view of Shane completely. Shane just sighed, letting go.  
"I wanted to say I'm sorry.. What I said yesterday was.. was fucked up. I didn't mean it. I was just.. it don't matter. It was fucked and I shouldn't'a said it."  
"s'fine." Daryl shrugged.  
"No, not fucking _'fine'_. Daryl, you can't just forgive me like that. Not after you tried to.."  
"Tried'a what?" Daryl's glare met Shane's eyes, causing the older boy to take a step back.  
"Didn't you try and.. kill yourself?" He asked quietly, shifting uncomfortably. But Daryl let out a patronizing scoff, folding his arms across his chest.  
"Cuz ya tol' me to? Get over yerself, Walsh. Ain't got no influence over me."  
"But Rick called and-"  
"Rick's a liar."  
"My dad said he got a call over to your house las-"  
"Merle an' Pa screamin' 'bout shit."  
Shane eyed Daryl skeptically, trying to find any signs of the lie. But he was good. Too good.   
"Lemme buy you lunch."  
And now it was Daryl's turn to look skeptical. "Why?"  
"Cuz I feel like shit for what I said. Humor me."  
Daryl was a stubborn sumbitch, but he knew better than to turn down food. Especially since it'd become so precious. And it will, since he knew Merle would be back on the drugs, Pa would get angry at him for being a pussy and trying to opt out, and his strength needed for hunting would be nonexistent soon enough. Suddenly it became painfully clear how much he had just fucked himself over by failing at trying to kill himself.  
  
"Fine."  
Walking behind Shane, Daryl entered the sandwich shop again and stood by Shane to order. Shane got some monster ham sandwich, wheat bread, toasted. Weirdo. Daryl settled for a roast beef with american cheese on white bread. Because he wasn't a total loser like Shane. Their sandwiches didn't take long to make, and soon, both with their bottles of coke Shane bought for them, they sat across from each other with their sandwiches. Shane was already woofing his sandwich down, but Daryl sat there, tense, chewing on his thumb. Of course he was uneasy, this is the guy who got joy from kicking his ass, and now he was trying to be nice to him. What a weird day.

"Eat something, dummy." Shane muttered with a mouth full of food. That seemed to snap Daryl out of his thoughts, because he brought his attention to his sandwich, smushing it flat. Oh. Ok. He picked up a half of his sandwich and took a small bite. But that was followed by a bigger bite, as Daryl began to devour the sandwich. He wasn't aware of how hungry he was until he started pigging out on his sandwich. Shane watched him for a moment, eyebrow raised, trying to fight back a smile. Why did he think these horrible table manners were... cute? God, this guilt was really getting to him. Shaking his head, he took a large swig of coke and wiped his mouth messily with a napkin, crumpling it up.  
  
Daryl's brows furrowed when his sandwich was suddenly gone. He missed it already. Remember when it was still there? Daryl does. :( Shit. Cracking open his soda, he took a few large gulps, and just like that, half the bottle was gone.   
"Hungry?" Shane teased, setting his own bottle down on the tabletop. Daryl only gave him a one shouldered shrug. The silence filled the air again, until Shane broke it again, with an observation that could've been kept to himself. "Looks like you had an IV in your hand.."  
"Oh fuck you." Daryl hissed out, yanking his hand off the table to hide securely in his lap from Shane's vision.  
"'m sorry, didn't mean'a.. Why'd you do it?" Shane sounded desperate now, even a little pathetic. But he didn't care. He needed to know _why_.   
Staring down at his lap, Daryl was quiet for a long time, half hesitating, half struggling to find the correct words. "Jus' be better without me." And there was that one shoulder shrug again.  
Shane sighed, licking over his lips and rubbing the side of his face. "That isn't true."  
"Ain't no evidence statin' otherwise."  
Shane's mouth opened to try and respond, but he couldn't think of one good thing to come from such a miserable being like Daryl Dixon. In his defense, he didn't know much about the younger boy, but still. "Ya can make yerself sumthin'."   
Daryl just grunted at him. Well then.  
  
Shane didn't press further, just eating and responding to texts. He couldn't help but notice when Daryl kept eyeing his phone. "Y'can't read my messages through the back, Dixon."  
"Ain't tryin'a read 'em." Daryl bit back defensively.  
"Then what's so fasinating?" One shoulder shrug. Son of a bitch, this fucker.  
"Don' got a phone." Daryl explained after a long moment 0f silence. This surely got Shane's attention.  
"Excuse me?? You're like, what, 15? And you don't have a phone?" Shane wasn't sure if he was shocked or appauled, or maybe even both.  
"Can't 'fford one." Well, that made sense. Dixons seemed like poor people. Dressed like it too.   
"So how the hell do you do anything?"   
_Shrug_. "Borrow Merle's sometimes. When he ain't 'round'a yell at me."  
"That sounds fuckin' awful." Shane stood up, gathering up their trash. "I'm buyin' ya a phone. C'mon."  
_"What??"_ Daryl wasn't sure he heard him right. Merle could barely afford his shitty old outdated phone, and suddenly here Shane was, demanding that Daryl needed one.   
"Ain't up for debate, c'mon." And just like that, Shane was dragging Daryl down to the phone store. How did this even happen?  
  
Daryl almost died when he saw the prices for the phones, he didn't even know things could cost that much! But Shane bought him a brand new phone with unlimited texting and data for a month. Wow! And on a park bench outside the store, Shane helped Daryl set it up, but Daryl was more focused on the new camo case for it. Nature freak. Once it was up and running, Shane added his number in there, teaching Daryl how to call and text, but Daryl claimed he already knew how, because he wasn't fucking stupid.  
"You can have Rick's number too. Dunno what you'd need it for, but Rick is a good guy." Shane entered in Rick as a contact as well. "And you can add Glenn and Maggie."  
"Dunno their numbers off m'head." Daryl muttered, but Shane didn't seem to react in an offensive way, so he relaxed.  
"Well I'm sure you'll see them soon enough. Ask."  
"Yeah." Daryl gave a nod, standing up. "Prolly should get back. Mer's probably throwin' a damn fit."  
"Text me when you get there." When had he turned into his mother? Ugh. Whatever. He sent Daryl off, quickly texting Rick about what had just happened. !!!!  
  
**Shane: i bot daryl a phone  
  
** And Rick didn't disappoint, responding back within seconds.  
**Rick: What??  
  
Shane: r u dum  
  
Rick: no  
Rick: you bought him a phone?  
  
Shane: yeah  
Shane: fucker didnt have 1  
Shane: how fukt is that?  
**

**Rick: when did you even get a chance 2 do that?  
  
Shane: he was at the sammich place  
  
Rick: i thought he was in the hospital  
  
Shane: yeah idk   
Shane: he was there  
Shane: got let out maybe?  
  
Rick: ???  
Rick: well ok then   
Rick: so he wasn't pissed at u?  
  
Shane: well not 2 much  
Shane: i said sorry and bot him lunch  
  
Rick: stop saying bot  
  
Shane: how bout i say fuck you  
  
Rick: bye  
  
** Shane rolled his eyes at his friend, but didn't respond back. In that time, Daryl had texted him. So he opened it up, snickering at the message.  
  
**Daryl: wow this place still sucks  
  
Shane: what place?  
  
Daryl: hospital  
Daryl: fuckin too clean an shit  
Daryl: who invented them  
  
Shane: what am i the history teacher  
  
Daryl: might as fuckin well be  
Daryl: yall both pricks  
  
Shane: ouch  
Shane: my feelings  
**  
**Daryl: im walkin slow as shit cuz merle is gonna be pissed i ditched  
Daryl: prolly punch me r sum shit  
  
Shane: i can read this in ur voice  
  
Daryl: im reading urs in danny devitos voice  
 **  
 **Shane: wtaf**  
  
**Daryl: ;)**  
 **Daryl: nvm that was gay**  
  
**Shane: well**  
  
******Daryl: stfu no im not**

 


End file.
